


Angel in Abyss

by Sherry_CS



Series: Mik/Fei Smuts [1]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 03:50:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15941192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherry_CS/pseuds/Sherry_CS
Summary: A Rewrite of Chapter 26 from Pray in Abyss. That chapter just struck me so deep and stayed with me, that I have to create my own version of it. *I promise I didn’t JUST write this for the porn of it :)





	Angel in Abyss

Mikhail had to admit that he felt just a tinge of regret and panic as he saw that forlorn profile against the tall French window, illuminated by the soft city light from below. A part of him wanted to back down, to say he’s sorry, crack a joke or two, and let it slide. But the rest of him would not allow. He gained on the man by the window, all the while measuring the thud of his boots on the polished wooden floor. He had thrown his hat in the ring, and now he had to pick it up. For the first time in his life, he had absolutely no freaking idea what was going to transpire in a moment or two.

He took the long-haired man in his arms from behind, and grazed his lips on the guy's ear. “You would go this far for Asami’s sake,” said Mikhail, in a voice carefully calculated to not show the hurt the thought provoked in him even as he said it. “I only do things for my own sake.” The man in his arms said, in a voice that was rather too calm.

Mikhail turned the man’s face toward his, tilting up his chin with his rough hand. “I will not go gentle on you, just so you know.” “What makes you think I’d want you to?” The black-haired beauty blinked his eyes, and looked unflinchingly into the bigger man’s eyes through the thick misty veil that is his lashes. Mikhail breathed in hard, “Good,” and reached straight for the man’s groin.

It was bad taste, for sure, and the man was startled. Good. I’ll see that perfect façade of yours broken down bit by bit, and let’s see if by the end of the night a little truth might not be extracted from the crumbs, thought Mikhail, as he quickly unbuttoned the now-a-little-flustered beauty’s tailored pants with his skilled hand. But the beauty seemed to see right through him and quickly turned around, pushing Mikhail into the king-size bed that was right behind him. Mikhail fell into it with a grin on his face, as the long-haired Dragon fell with him and covered him with his slender, sinewy body. “I said I’d sleep with you, but I didn’t say who’d be on top,” breathed the Dragon onto Mikhail’s face. “Make no mistake. This will be nothing like what you’re accustomed to.” Mikhail’s grin widened, as he adeptly rolled over and placed the younger man under the loom of his bigger, and arguably stronger, body. “Mikhail…” “Shh…” He shut down the man’s protests with a shower of demanding, brutal kisses around his neck, into his collarbones, and down his chest, leaving more than a few marks along the way and ever widening his perimeters as he undressed the Dragon’s upper body. By the time they both moved up the bed and Mikhail had his fist pinning down the Dragon’s ever-so-fiesty hand above his head, they were both half naked, with only their underwear still adamantly clinging to their heated bodies and their arousal rubbing against each other uncomfortably as one man lay on top of the other.

“You are never honest with yourself, are you?” Mikhail breathed down Fei Long’s chest, nibbling at his sensitive parts as he fished his free hand down the Dragon’s trim waist, petting his ass, trailing his hips, and finally, entered the space beneath his underwear without pulling it down. His warm and eager hand closed around Fei Long’s twitching manhood. The man underneath him shuddered and tensed all over against his will. “But don’t worry. I’ll help you,” continued Mikhail, smiling his evil smile. With one stroke, he pulled down Fei Long’s underwear, exposing the man’s rather obscene erection held in his powerful hand. He let go of his prey’s hand secured above his head as he felt the fight slip away a little, and parted his angel’s alabaster legs, pressing them by the knees towards the guy's ears, bending the elegant angel into a position that he was sure he did not often get. And he knew the man was not going to appreciate it. Sure enough, his angel blushed his angry blush and his eyes breathed fire. “Mikhail, if you’re doing what I think you’re doing…” “Think nothing, my love, just lie back and enjoy.” Mikhail laughed, and stuck out his tongue.

Fei Long had been pleased that way countless times, but Mikhail sure had a way with it that, although he hated to admit, blew his mind instantly. The man was focusing on one spot and yet at the same time, he was everywhere. His steady tongue and quick stroke spoke of an eagerness and a dedication that almost frightened Fei Long. Somehow, in a split second, he was not sure what this was about any more. It was more than just the man’s skills that blew his cool, but more unnervingly, the man’s passion, the sheer heat that radiated from his entire being that threatened to burn his body and soul to cinders, starting from that sinful area between his legs. For a moment there, as the crazy Russian worked steadily and unrelentingly toward bringing Fei Long to orgasm before his due, this felt to Fei Long to be simply and purely about sex. Hot, good, sex, that both of them were so good at and yet never had a chance to test each other out about. This was a wrestle, a dance, a good-will hunt.

But the man whose face had been buried between his legs refused to let him muse. He stopped abruptly as Fei Long was pressing dangerously close to coming (if he did, it would be much to his later shame, but he couldn’t think of that right now), raised his head and, without warning, flipped his unguarded partner over.

“Wait…! Mikhail! Don’t you dare!” The King of Composure almost yelled.

“I love you screaming my name.” Fei Long could see the young Russian’s wolffish smile without looking back.

“I. Did. Not. Scream.” He heard the noise of a jar being opened and then tossed away, of something plastic being ripped open, and he knew all too well what those things were.

“Oh but you will.” A squish, and Fei Long was ruthlessly entered, by two fingers.

“You son of a bitch!”

Mikhail actually laughed. “You’re a gem. Truly, what did you expect? That I would get you up here and let you fuck _me_?”

“I thought you wanted me no matter what.” Fei Long breathed sadistically through clenched teeth, as he was being probed and stroked and fondled and teased all at the same time. In a word, humiliated.

“I did. I do. But you have placed me in such an impossible scenario that there’s no other way for me to play it.” He inserted his fingers fully, wrenching a shudder and a gasp from the fair and now sweat-covered body beneath him. It was all Fei Long could do not to writhe. “Because let’s face it, why keep playing the wooing game when you have made it crystal clear that you cannot be wooed? We wouldn’t even be here if you weren’t so fucking obsessed about that goddamn Japanese.” If Fei Long had heard a tinge of sadness in the capricious man’s voice, he believed he was mistaken.

A third finger. And then the Russian started to patiently and methodically scissor Fei Long open.

Maybe it was the panic, maybe it was the shame, or maybe it was the mention of Asami, in his daze, Fei Long said something unpardonable.

“We had a deal. You’d do well to remember that.”

The fingers paused. “Sure I do.” And were abruptly replaced by the man’s throbbing cock.

“Fuck!” Fei Long cried out in pain and surprise. “Aahhh! Ugh... ugh... aaahhhh! You... Fuck!” He did NOT expect himself to swear so much so soon. Everything was falling upside down around him and as of now, he felt officially out of control.

Tears were welling up in his eyes under the Russian’s stormy attack. Fei Long was panting fast and hard, and pretty soon he was screaming the guy’s name, as predicted.

“Mikhail! You sick bastard! Slow down! Slow, the fuck, down!”

To his surprise, the man did. The pounding became a gentle nudge, and when Mikhail was sure Fei Long had regained his breath, he flipped him over, leaned down to cover his lover’s body with his own, his right arm framing the man’s exquisite face, allowing his hand to card through his waterfall of dark hair, his left hand locking the other man’s right arm firmly down, and pressed down for a kiss.

It was a deep, brutal, punishing kiss, one that at the same time threatened to burn down Fei Long’s last shred of sanity and promised to bring him to clarity. The skillful Russian was slowly regaining his speed inside of Fei Long as well, hitting him right where needed. Their breaths quickened. The Russian’s hand wrapped around Fei Long’s throbbing cock.

“Why do you keep refusing what’s good for you? It’s almost like you think you don’t deserve it.” The Russian breathed the fiery words inside Fei Long’s ear.

If he thought that would break the mighty Dragon, he’d better think again. “Sex with me almost never ends well, you know, for the other party. You should be fleeing for your life instead of sticking around trying to make a girlfriend out of me.”

“You forget one thing, my proud one.” The Russian’s deep rumbling voice was full of mirth.

“Yeah? And what is that?” He managed to speak through his broken breaths.

“Love works miracles.”

For an instant the words choked in the Chinese man’s throat, as he looked into the looming Russian’s all-too-gentle eyes and found no trace of his usual playfulness there, nor even a hint of malice. The tension was palpable, and the heat, unbearable.

“You seem to think you’re the wronged party here,” continued the Russian, “whereas really, it’s me who’s heartbroken in this sad little drama you orchestrated. You _know_ it’s more than sex I want, and yet you refuse to acknowledge the validity of it. You think _you’re_ being reduced to a play thing? It is _I_.”

The Russian was smiling when he said those words, but his eyes were a smouldering pire of anger, hurt, lust, and longing. It was too powerful for Fei Long to look away. He felt he needed to say something, but his words were sealed in his mouth as the Russian covered it yet again with an unrelenting, bruising kiss that spoke unmistakeably of possessiveness. And then he said,

“But I have dreamed of this too many times to let it pass. So what’s a little humiliation?” He grinned wide, and picked up his speed. Fei Long cried out and arched his back hard against the oncoming wave of exquisite pain and pleasure.

The pounding was impossibly fast and wondrously deep. One thing Fei Long had failed to take into account when he formed this plan, was just how big Mikhail was. Not to mention he was rarely entered in his entire sex life (which started a tad too early for his liking and never existed for the purpose of his own pleasure), even if he were a professional slut, this weapon would be more than a sex veteran could handle. And now the weapon was conquering every inch inside of him and exploring places he never even knew existed. As the stroking on his cock picked up on speed and instensity as well, he felt the undeniable need to come rising in his belly. And against his will, he reached for the man’s shoulders and clenched him down hard, clawing into his flesh.

“Mikhail!” He threw his head back and screamed in a bewildering onslaught of senses that was entirely new and entirely Mikhail’s to give.

“Come, my angel.” Mikhail whispered, obediently pushing his obsidian-haired lover over the edge.

If you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you. But when Nietzsche formed those words, did he know the abyss could also be so beautiful, that darkness could hold such a myriad of colours and promises, unite hope and sin, weave the past and the future into one, be more bewitching than Siren’s tune and stronger than Medusa’s stare, and yet be pure, innocent, and fragile? Mikhail felt he was gazing into such an abyss right at this moment, as the proud Dragon’s immensely elegant head fell back into the rich inky pool that was his hair with such abandon and force that Mikhail could see blood vessels popping up along the length of his white neck, and the convulse he felt _in_ him was so overwhelming it almost took him along for the ride. It pleased Mikhail to no end that this pleasure was his to give, that those luscious orgasmic cries were for him, and him alone. Yes, he loves this man, he thought. He will love him till eternity.

He grit his teeth as he refused to be taken along, not yet. The night was still young, and he had many tricks to try.

——

Yoh tried to reach Fei Long on his cell after he’d got that disconcerting call about Asami and his lover’s disappearance, and had failed, more than a dozen times. Normally he would have stormed into the hotel room long by now, but he had a feeling that the Russian had something to do with this, and not for business purposes. Maybe he had put the room in a signal-free zone, or maybe he had asked Fei Long to turn off his phone. In either case, Fei Long would have objected, but given in in the end, as he knew all too well what this night was about, what he must gain by the end, and what he must give as a price. Yoh would be lying the biggest lie of his life if he said it didn’t pain him just a little. It did, greatly, and to the very core of his being. He wasn’t lying when he said to the man that he wanted solely to serve by his side, and ask nothing in return, but waiting passively by the foot of the building while his sole object of desire was probably being ravished this very moment some twenty floors above, proved to be more than his sanity could take. Maybe the ecstasy of being allowed to call Fei Long by his name had marred his sense of reality a little bit. He had waited patiently outside the door as Fei Long took Akihito Akaba or some other victim more times than he cared to count, but this felt somehow different. He didn’t like to think if it was due to himself, to Fei Long, or to that cruel and elusive Russian by the name of Mikhail Arbatov.

In any case, he had to find a way to inform Fei Long of the current situation, and then bear whatever reaction he might get when the heavenly angel with a temper of hell learned of the disappearance of his _Japanese_ obsession.

The night was still young, but it felt to him to have lasted way too long already.


End file.
